


Mornings

by Janatee



Series: Barneswald [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Doctor Who, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:59:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janatee/pseuds/Janatee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“'Bucky, are you awake?' shouted Clara.<br/>'Maybe,' he replied, his voice raspy.<br/>'Get down here and give me a hand, sleeping beauty,' she replied.<br/>'Flattery won’t get you anywhere,' he murmured into the pillow."</p><p>Saturday morning in the Barnes household (Fluff).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> This ficlet was written for the prompt "Give me a hand" by pierceaholic. It was originally posted on oswink.tumblr.com

Bucky opened his eyes. He could stay in bed forever, wrapped up in a soft comforter for the remainder of the morning. Just spend a few hours in drowsy quiet.

“Mmmph,” he groaned. He rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head. He started singing to himself to drown out the noise.

“Bucky, are you awake?” shouted Clara.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice raspy.

“Get down here and give me a hand, sleeping beauty,” she replied.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” he murmured into the pillow.

“Ack! Cut out the banter and get down here,” she said, “There’s a-ow! There’s a bird in the kitchen!”

Bucky ambled out of bed and made his way downstairs, too-long flannel pants dragging on the ground as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“Coming,” he said.

 

The bird flew around in a mass of feathery chaos. Clara waved a broom at it, trying to corral the thing out the door. She heard a giggle from behind her, and turned to look. It was Bucky. She never tired of seeing him in the mornings, all sleepy eyed and gentle.

_Crash!_

But there were more urgent things at hand.

“Bucky, get a broom or something,” she said. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the cup of coffee near the fridge, but he walked to the nearby cupboard and drew out a mop.

“Let’s get this bugger out of here, shall we?” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, “I can get him in a corner on my own, but I need-”

“Say no more,” he replied, “Let’s get him.”

They made quite a sight, the two of them. One short woman, hair and makeup perfectly done, frantically waving a broom, and one lanky man in oversized flannel pajamas stabbing, seemingly at random, with a mop.

 

This went on for some time, until the bird swooped into Clara’s face, clawing madly in an attempt to escape.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, slapping the bird away with her free hand. Bucky caught it with the edge of the mop.

“Don’t mess with my wife!” he said, emphasizing his words with swings of the mop. The bird scurried out the door, wings flapping frantically.

“And stay out!” Bucky shouted, then slammed the door.

“Ooch,” he said, “You alright?”

“Yeah,” she said, “Not bleedin’ at least.” She touched her face gingerly. “Thanks for the help,” she said, “I made you some coffee; you should drink up. You look like a zombie.”

 

Bucky ran quickly to the counter and scooped up the mug. He took a long sip, and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Did I mention you’re the kindest most beautiful gal in the whole world?” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “I should give you coffee more often.”

“Come here, you,” he said. He scooped her up in his arms and planted a kiss on her lips.

“Hey! Watch it, coffee breath,” she said, but she was smiling.

“My apologies,” he said, “How can I make it up to you?”

She snuggled into the crook of his neck. “I’ll think of something.”


End file.
